


Olly Olly Oxen Free

by FishLeather



Category: Original Work
Genre: But not quite, Gen, Hide and Seek, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Predator/Prey, Seat-Of-The-Pants writing, Tag, Training, or - Freeform, sort of like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-19 23:46:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18980833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FishLeather/pseuds/FishLeather
Summary: ""Olly olly oxen free" is a catchphrase used in children's games such as hide and seek, capture the flag, and kick the can to indicate that players who are hiding can come out into the open without losing the game." -- Wikipedia





	Olly Olly Oxen Free

**Author's Note:**

> Imma keep it real w/ you chief: I wrote this in a 4.5 hour nonstop session and no i do not know why or how. I just kinda 'had to'. iirc this is literally the longest thing i've ever posted. i don't know. good luck

I pressed my back flat against the wall, trying to breathe slowly and be still while every instinct screamed that I should grab a blunt instrument and start running. But I'd tried that last time. There was a reason running was a second-to-last resort. Planning was the key. Placing myself against the same wall as the door meant that I couldn't be seen through the small window. Leaving the door ever so slightly ajar may make it seem that this room had already been checked. Never moving, never retreating, for fear of making a single sound. Time nearly stood still, unmarked by the soft shadows from the dull, artificial glow produced by the hall lights. With my eyes, I traced the fuzzy outlines of chairs stacked on meeting tables, boxes stacked on cabinets, files stacked on boxes.

A call of "Olly olly oxen free!" careened down the hallway.

I nearly, nearly jumped out of my skin. Instead, I kept my composure, and peeled myself off of the wall. Before the main lights could flicker completely on, I opened the door wider to exit, the hinge's squeak seeming incredibly loud after a hours of utter silence. I tried not to make my deep breaths too obvious, but didn't try to hide the sound of various joints cracking back into motion. Joining the others in the hallway, I made to pull the door closed again, and found it difficult. I turned around and came face to face with a masked figure, its body in between the door and frame. Immediately I had to decide what reaction to show.

If I revealed surprise, it would have shown that I had been unaware how close I had been to getting captured. However, it would also show that the other hadn't known I was there either, otherwise I wouldn't be standing here. They must have been on the floor, judging from the fine coating of dust and debris on the front of the disguise, probably having been crawling under one of the tables to find stragglers, an amataeur spot to hide if ever there was one. You always wanted the ability to make a break for it as a last resort, otherwise it would be impossible to avoid getting--

Ah. Whoops. My face had made the decision for me, I had stared in naked shock for more than a few seconds. The masked figure placed a hand on my shoulder, inclined its chin in a way that almost screamed 'unwarranted self-congratulation', and left to rejoin one of the other training groups. It would have been slightly gratifying to point out their inability to find me, but it would have been moot. After a minute elapsed to allow for getting out of awkward (or "elaborate") hiding spots, there were 6 others in the hall, meaning 7 of us evaded and 2 were captured. Either we were at near-peak performance already, or that had been a downright terrible opponent. Hopefully the former was true, and next week we would do even better.

\--

A layout change was good. Usually it meant the teams had all sufficiently outgrown the last one, becoming too familiar with it for it to be a challenge. Being informed of the layout change at the last possible second was not good. It meant they thought you needed to brush up on a basic skill: navigation in an unfamiliar area. Apparently the other members of my new team hadn't been judged so harshly, seeing them make beelines for their assigned starting points. It took a couple tries before I found my correct room, and stood in position.

Not a moment later, a whistle shrieked.

I was in the archives, and had to find a blue sheet of paper. I tore the lid off the nearest box, and in a trick that looked better with cards than files, skimmed to see that there was not a speck of blue inside. On to the next box. And the next. A cold fear crept up, that this was one of those tasks given when they wanted you to fail. There were dozens of boxes. I scanned the room for some other source of paper, and decided on a filing cabinet at the other end of the room. The wall had a seam near there. It was always odd seeing the outline of a "hidden" door in bright light. Some of us thought they had something to do with getting caught, some thought they were red herrings, others were silent about them. 

I was halfway there, in the precise middle of the room, when the lights went out.

It seemed early for that, but it would be idiotic to voice that out loud. I carefully backtracked, knowing the "emergency" lighting would kick on soon. When an outstretched hand finally felt cardboard once again, I was silently relieved. I had managed to make it past a few easy-to-knock-over lamps, and had to be near the hall access again. I groped for the handle, hoping to make a neutral escape-- no completed goal, but not being captured either. Early on we were told that zero wasn't the worst score you could recieve. Not by a long shot.

The door's window took shape with subtle hall-light glow, just as my hand closed around the handle. Just as I found it wouldn't turn. Just as I realized I had been caught already. Slowly, as if to avoid waking a terrible beast, I turned to face the room once more. There was a rectangular hole in the wall. The spot of wall that had in bright light revealed the outline of a door.

It was an insane plan. It would have been better to shout the information (archive main door locked, secondary access wide open) in the couple of seconds before capture, rather than act on it myself. But all the motivation in the world came in the form of just barely spotting a masked figure a few paces away. Armed. Motionless. Waiting.

I was graceless, but didn't let that stop me. My footfalls drowned out sound, thought, everything. I reached out to knock over a floor lamp on purpose, to trip the pursuit. In clumsiness or accidental ingenuity, I practically flung it backwards from sheer momentum. I had to go around a low desk to reach the door, but panic was already burning when I saw it begin to slide closed. I was so close. With everything I had, I dove for it, and for all my troubles rammed half my arm through the gap as I hit the ground. The door made a whirring sound as it tried to close on my elbow. After a few more sounds, it locked in place.

After what could have been a split second or several, I remembered to look behind myself, craning my neck to see the pursuer. Apparently, I was alone in the archives. I would have tried to open the filing cabinet next to me, if it hadn't been for 3 things. First, it was locked. Second, even if it wasn't, seeing inside would strain every single muscle in my body from this angle, and third, I was not alone on the other side of the door. There was movement in the air on the other side. I tried to peer through the crack, but a hand yanked my arm in further, twisting it at a painful angle that forced me to lean in, my back to the room, another yank and they were bracing it against something before I realized what was going on. It was now or never.

"Blue sheet still unrecovered!" I shouted, trying to hold my voice steady, while attempting to make my arm the exact opposite. It was exhausting to thrash my arm at random continuously while I couldn't see it, but I braved on, having absolutely no other options. Suddenly, the hands on the other side of the door seemed to give up, and let go. A moment later, the door started to whirr again. I tried to yank backwards, before a dawning realization met with steadily increasing pressure at the elbow joint. The door was closing more tightly. Within seconds, my arm was immobile. The pressure, still increasing, was becoming painful. The pitch of the whirring became almost cruelly low, reflecting the difficulty in closing on bone.

In desperation, I clawed at the edge of the door with my other hand, trying to stave off the pain. I shook with equal parts fear and rage, nearly ready to scream when a gloved hand found itself clamped over my mouth. The pursuer had managed to surprise an immobile victim. Victim? "Opponent" was the correct term. In any situation beside this one. Almost in slow motion, given that my head couldn't be pulled backwards in this position, my body was pressed forwards. The pressure from the door became blindingly painful. I felt something shift, a bone either broken or shoved out of place. It was hard to tell. It definitely hurt, and the door was making a sort of wet sound. Was it blood? Was it mine? I was going to be sick.

I must have been halfway gone from pain alone before I noticed the pursuer hadn't been looking for a vein. Despite this, a sort of fog was rolling in. The door went silent, before slowly sliding open. My arm, the middle looking like it was barely held together at all, fell to the side. I noticed a series of 6 injection points, not unlike the 6 dots on common dice, all near the wrist. 6 was quite a lot. Maybe they were worried the majority would leak out from the apparently gaping wounds in my crushed limb. It was a bizarre position. Sitting around, staring at a void, waiting for who-knows-what to kick in, with a hand over your mouth and a thoroughly mangled elbow. Staring at a void? 

The door was still open. It was so dark in there. I made to get up, the hand allowed this, and retreated. All I managed to do was to fall forward. I protected my face by letting my elbow hit the ground. Something told me I wasn't supposed to scream, but it was very, very hard not to.


End file.
